


if you want a bit of love put your head on my shoulder (it's cool)

by multifanwho



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Human AU, I am once again making bill and yaz best friends AS THEY SHOULD, Miscommunication, Rating will go up, Slow Build, Smut, nb!13 but also sort of genderfluid!13 they explain it a few chapters in, wedding industry au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29379918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multifanwho/pseuds/multifanwho
Summary: When a new caterer arrives at Blue Box Barn, a wedding venue Yaz Khan works at on the regular, they capture Yaz's intrigue straight away. They're hard working, a traveler, attractive, and an all round sweetheart. Like Yaz, they spend most of their days working in an environment surrounded by love and couples making life long commitments to each other- which makes it difficult to believe that when it comes to Yaz and George, they can't see their own love despite it standing right in front of them.
Relationships: Thasmin - Relationship, Thirteen/Yaz, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 19
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title taken from the song Family Friend by The Vaccines and I recommend listening to it to get the Vibe

Weddings are scams. That’s what Yaz Khan believes anyway. Spending thousands and thousands on just one day, shifting the focus away from the couple and onto how much they can flaunt instead. Cakes, food, suits, dresses, chair covers, table toppers, lighting, flowers, music, fabric draping, entertainment, venue hire costs, photography, hotel rooms, wedding favours, alcohol and drinks, there is so much to choose to waste your hard earned money on. Yaz knows this better than most. She sees it almost every day.

She works for the biggest wedding hire company in Sheffield- For the Girls Who Waited, CEO Amelia Pond- which basically means people hire products from them and the minions like Yaz go and set them up and take them down for a fee. It’s a decent paying job and Yaz likes how she’s out and about, admittedly making people’s dreams come true despite not liking the industry. Plus, she gets to drive big vans. Yaz likes driving the big vans. Makes her feel important. 

As of now it’s looking to be a beautiful late spring morning. Yaz has been driving since six to get to one of her favourite venues, Blue Box Barn, for seven, when the cleaners have just about finished and Yaz has access to do what she needs to do to make dreams come true. She’s not alone though. Next to her sits her best mate Bill Potts, lightly snoring through the entire journey- literally being paid to sleep on the job- but her value really comes into play when they get going. Yaz parks up in the otherwise near empty gravel car park and sits for a moment to see if Bill will clock the lack of movement and wake up. Her friend continues to snore and not wanting to waste time Yaz takes action.

“Wake up!” 

“Hu!” Bill wakes at Yaz’s shouting with confused eyes shooting open. “No need to give me a heart attack.”

“Yes need to shout, we’re here.” 

Yaz pulls the handbrake and shuts off the engine then promptly jumps out into the crisp morning air. The gates are wide open; her favourite venue welcoming her with open arms. There’s an outdoor social area for smokers and people to gather before they’re allowed into the ceremony room to the left. To the right is the toilets, kitchen and reception ‘barn’ which isn’t really a barn, just a big room made to look like a barn. Dead center between the two is a patch of lawn for kids to stain their best clothes on and for drunk people to lay down and nap late at night. 

“Come on then.” Bill snaps Yaz out of it, dragging her attention back to the fact they need to sign in on the piece of paper hanging in the kitchen.

Yaz signs her name, as does a still slightly sleepy Bill and then the real work starts. The two of them begin to shift big plastic boxes of lights into the reception hall, followed by their ladders, then multiple crates and boxes full of other decorations and such. By the time everything’s in and the van is locked up, the floor is dry from being cleaned and the pair get up their ladders as soon as possible to string fairy lights between beams in the ceiling. This is the hard stuff. This is the stuff that tires out Yaz, constantly going up and down and up and down and shoving the great by ladder around, all while trying to race to get done before the catering team turns up and starts laying out tables and glassware. 

They get it done just in time. Literally just in time, the circle tables already having been put up around them. One task down, many more to go. Next Bill counts out the amount of chairs they have to tie a dark navy bow on by laying a sash of fabric on each chair she counts, still stacked up at the side from the previous wedding, while Yaz follows behind tying them. It’s quick work but back breaking, but luckily today they only need to do eighty. The catering team all dressed in their formal back trousers and black shirts with their logo embroidered in baby blue shuffle around Yaz and Bill taking completed chairs to put around the tables they’re dressing. The DJ arrives to set up his portable dance floor and backdrop. The florist turns up too to dress the ceremony room across the grass and the cake people carry in a massive masterpiece. 

Having suddenly got very very busy Yaz and Bill are having to be extra careful as they carry glass jam jars half full with water to the middle of the tables. If they spill anything or smash anything on top of freshly washed and ironed tablecloths they’ll get in trouble, so placing these jars in the center of every table takes great care. The florists will come and fill them with flowers later, but there are a fair few tables to do with multiple each. Yaz throws Bill a look of annoyance from halfway across the room as two of the catering staff are too busy chatting, laying out cutlery, while Yaz and Bill are waiting for them to hurry up and finish a table so they can put their stuff on. 

“Good morning ladies.” Donna Noble, the venue's event planner, enters the room at nine on the dot. As always. 

“Morning Donna.” Yaz smiles, placing clear glass candle holders in between the jam jars. 

“How are we today?” 

“Doing good.” Bill answers, doing the same as Yaz just further away. 

“Where’s the new one of your lot?” Donna turns her attention to the catering staff. 

“Late.” The waitress Yaz recognises as Rose Tyler says. “Stuck in some traffic, won’t be long.” 

“I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt.” Donna says in a friendly manner but when she turns to Yaz she rolls her eyes. Yaz chuckles silently and gets on with her work wondering who Donna will be having a word with later.

They’re done and dusted by half nine. A job well done, Yaz thinks as she shuts the van’s side door with a bit of a satisfactory slam. 

“Boom.” Bill holds out her fist for Yaz to pound. 

“Boom!” Yaz replies with twice the amount of enthusiasm. 

“You got a spare Yaz?” Rose’s voice floats through the air like a pretty petal. Yaz spins around to find her and sees a broken jar in her hand. “Sorry.” 

“Yeah no problem.” 

Yaz opens the door and steps back into the van to get one of the spares while Bill takes the broken glass and puts it in their bin. They always carry spares and they always have at least one jam jar break every time they go out.

“Bloody florists.” Rose mutters as Yaz hands her a new one. 

“Don’t shit on the florists, they’re some of the nicest people.” Bill says. 

On the other side of the car park Yaz sees a little blue car speed in and park up next to the few others over on that side. Within seconds of the engine turning off a tall slim figure dressed in the catering uniform gets out and starts to run towards the entrance at full speed. Whoever they are they pay no mind to Yaz, Bill, and Rose standing there watching. Three sets of eyes on them and they have no idea. Yaz however can’t take her eyes off the latecomer. How they tuck their bracelet into their sleeve to not be seen, how they walk, how their undercut looks so fresh and neat with the longer hair on top of their head tightly tied back, the silver ring on their thumb glinting in the morning sun. 

“Who’s that?” Yaz asks as they disappear into the venue. 

“George. They’re new.” Rose explains. Yaz should have guessed, what with the running. 

“They’re hot.” Bill mutters, sounding impressed. 

“Bill!” Yaz whacks her friend and colleague in the arm. “Sorry about her.” She feels the need to apologise to Rose for Bill’s inappropriateness. 

“I don’t think they heard you. You’re good.” Rose brushes it off. 

Rose retreats back to her work while Bill and Yaz get back in their van. The second their doors close, Bill takes their paperwork and starts to check off every item on the list that’s been delivered this morning and records the damages. Yaz stares at her friend, unimpressed with her lack of professionalism. 

“What?” Bill asks when she eventually looks up after noticing Yaz hasn’t started the engine. 

“You dick.” Yaz says. 

“She was hot though.” Bill shrugs. 

“They.” Yaz corrects her.

“What?”

Yaz turns the key in the ignition. “Rose used neutral pronouns.” 

“My bad.” Bill says, making a note of it. “Where to next? Oh God-” She groans.

“What?” 

“It’s the place that just plays Ed Sheeran songs on repeat.” 

Yaz groans throwing her head back then forces herself to shift the van into gear. 

Yaz sleeps well that night. Their second stop was a bit of a disaster and drained her of all energy. They were only just leaving when the wedding guests were turning up and she’s pretty sure that she and Bill are on the wedding video somewhere. Hopefully they’ll be edited out but if they’re not Yaz kind of wants a copy of the tape for a laugh. 

The next two days Yaz has off and she uses them to her advantage to pamper and look after herself. Soon, the second it hits mid June, it’s likely that she’s going to be scheduled for all Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays, completely decimating her weekends. Her weekends will then become Tuesdays and Wednesdays and last in the summer she’ll be lucky to have two days off in a row at all. Although her other best friend, Ryan, works in the office, and has a bit of a say in when people get scheduled and where they go so she and Bill never ever get the short straw.

She turns up ten minutes early for her next shift to pack the van full with what they need. The vans are kept at an industrial park in front of a massive unit where all the stock is kept. At the start of the week there’s a small team of staff that take stock back and get out everything each wedding needs to put it in a pile ready to be collected the following week. Yaz takes the stuff from the pile going to the place she’s scheduled to go and packs it strategically in the back of the van so the delicates are squished in and the heavier products are tied to the hooks on the walls. Two minutes after the time he was supposed to turn up Yaz spots her partner for the day arriving; a young man named Jack Harkness. Yaz has worked with him once before. She says worked, she means she did the work while he tried to chat up the head bridesmaid who was observing everything with his charming American accent.

“Sorry I’m late, couldn’t find my keys.” Jack says, jumping into the passenger seat.

“Two minutes isn’t too bad.” Yaz excuses him. It’s not her place to scalp the staff that are at the same level as her. “Let’s go.”

Their venue is an hour and a half away and Jack narrates it with stories. This time, with no bridesmaids or groomsmen to distract him Jack is actually a lot of help. The wedding isn’t until tomorrow, so the pair spend all day dressing over one hundred and fifty chairs and prettying up a hall which is basically just a business conference room attached to a golf club with a carpet that looks like it’s come straight out of the late seventies. Yaz reckons this couple has spent at least three thousand quid on trying to make this room look ceremonial, maybe a couple more. There’s so much to put out and set up that by the end of the job Yaz and Jack don’t even have the energy to have some banter on the drive back. They’re just knackered. 

“Good day sweetheart?” Najia asks when Yaz gets home. 

Yaz takes a few more moments of silence for herself, taking the time to sit down at the kitchen table before answering. 

“I’m tired.” She says as her mother joins her with a nice cup of tea.

“Do you really want another season of it?” Najia asks. 

“It’s fine mum.” Yaz says.

“No.” Najia places her hand on top of Yaz’s. “I’m not having you coming home miserable every day again. There’s a job opportunity at the hotel-”

“Mum.” Yaz shakes her off. 

“-you can apply and it will be better hours for you.”

“But it’s not as fun mum.”

Yaz has had the conversation a couple of times before. Despite how much Yaz might complain she does actually really enjoy what she does. Yes it’s tiring at times and when there’s a cock up it’s very stressful to try and fix on site but Yaz loves the order of the chaos- especially with the staff at the venues. Even the horrible owners of barns and halls that have a bit of an attitude become the basis of inside jokes on the way back in the van. 

“You still get to meet people.” Najia tries to sway her.

“I like my job. It’s just exhausting in the summer. Like every other business during their peak season.” Yaz says. It’s her answer every time and she’s sticking to her guns. 

“Okay.” Najia sighs, knowing she’s not going to win. 

Her mothers words ring through her though when she’s next at work on Saturday and everything’s going to shit. Her and Bill have been up for hours already but it’s only just turned ten. Their first job overran due to an error over the time they were allowed entry- making them late to turn up to the next venue and now they’re battling out with the caterers and all the other suppliers to get their job done before the wedding starts. It doesn’t help that there are at least a hundred chairs to dress with the most difficult sash, but it does help that they’re back at Yaz’s favourite venue and she knows that Donna is going to do everything she can to help.

Yaz sits surrounded by chairs that need to be done and moves as swiftly as she can without making it look like shit. She weaves the fabric in and out the back of the chiavari chairs then ties the excess fabric into a bow. Yaz thinks they’re fuck ugly for the amount of effort that has to go into them but they’re what the bride has paid for. She moves onto the next in the never ending pack but no matter how she does it she just can’t get the pattern right. Yaz gets so frustrated she swears under her breath, starting to lose her cool with the stupid sash and her own inability to wrangle it into submission. Bill comes to help by switching out the sash for a new one and with a deep breath Yaz manages to do it. 

“This one done?” 

A slender hand with a silver ring on the thumb lands on top of the chair the second Yaz finishes it. She looks up and sees the new caterer waiting for an answer. Up close Yaz  _ really _ can’t pull her eyes away. She feels like every detail of their face needs to be put under a microscope and analysed just to figure out why.

“Go for it.” Yaz says. 

“Thanks.” 

The chair is whisked away and placed at a table. A table that is scarily close to being fully laid and neither her nor Bill have started constructing the centerpieces yet. Yaz catches Bill’s eye and she understands to get on with it, leaving Yaz to finish off dressing the chairs alone. 

The blonde caterer makes it their duty to come and collect all the chairs Yaz completes to place them at table settings. They don’t say a word, just comes and takes them until Donna steps in and says she’ll do it because they’re supposed to be laying glassware. Bit of a trouble maker, Yaz notes, being late the other day and now this. Even though they’re not intermittently coming into her vicinity any more Yaz often finds her hands doing the task but her eyes drift off to look at the newbie, observing how they move and how they work. They blend in but totally stand out at the same time. Same uniform as the others, same level of neatness to their appearance but they stand out to Yaz. It’s like they have an air about them that just makes people look. Yaz trusts it. They have a very trustworthy face that Yaz just wants to study. The lines, the eyebrows, the eyes, lips, freckles, nose, jaw. Yaz watches for so long she ends up reaching for another chair and finding the only one left to do is the one she’s sitting on. 

Yaz catches herself doing that every time she visits that specific venue now. The blonde with the undercut always seems to be there, just doing their work, minding their own business, always smiling gently at Yaz when they pass. 

But Yaz can’t remember their name. 

She can’t ask Bill because she probably doesn’t remember either. She can’t ask Rose or Donna because they then might assume that their colleague has done something that Yaz is annoyed at. They’ll ask why she wants to know and Yaz can’t just say ‘they intrigue me’. That would make her look weird. So Yaz can only keep admiring from afar. 

One day though, when Yaz is following the table plan to put down custom place names she looks up to find the caterer looking at her. Not looking her way but looking directly at her. They avert their eyes as quick as a flash when Yaz notices but their cheeks pinken and not from the colour changing uplighters around the room shining on them. Yaz doesn’t get offended by it since she’s been doing the same. She only gets more curious. 

Mid June comes, which is where we start our story properly, although Yaz doesn’t know it yet. It’s an abnormally warm first day of summer for the north of England but Yaz is heading to Blue Box Barn so the heat doesn’t bother her much. Jack is with her again, still learning the ropes and the tricks of the trade but trained up enough to be able to handle the oncoming storm of bridezillas and worse- hellish mother in laws to be. There isn’t much to do today in terms of setting things out but when Yaz steps into the ceremony barn she can tell the heat is going to be a problem. It’s like a sauna, even with the glass doors open letting brief gusts of wind in. 

Jack is entrusted with dealing with the ceremony barn across the grass while Yaz does the bulk of the shitty stuff in the reception barn. No high stuff involving ladders, thank goodness, so Yaz can happily go along tying white sashes to chairs with gold ribbon, tucking eucalyptus sprigs provided by the florists into the ribbon, carrying in a massive gold mirror with the table plan written on it. The bride turns up with her entourage, dressed in gold silk dressing gowns with gold hair curlers attached to their heads. Yaz does the classic over smiley greeting, making sure she comes across that she isn’t completely hating the fact that tying all those chair sashes has made her sweat. It works, the bride says how pleased she is with how it’s turning out, sort of looking down her nose at Yaz and the caterers, who are setting out gold cutlery. The bride examines all the products that have been brought in then disappears again without so much as a thank you. 

Rose subtly passes Yaz with her arms full of gold napkins. 

“She does know all of this is  _ fake _ gold right?” Rose whispers. Yaz chokes on her own laughter to not give away the fact they’re taking the piss.

Jack comes with pictures of what he’s done in the other room for Yaz to check. He’s done a stellar job with placing glass cylinders with candles in down the aisle, weaving them in between lines and lines of fake (gold) foliage, making it look the best it can under the circumstances. He helps finish off placing some last few tacky golden candle stands in the middle of tables then offers to run the empty boxes back to the van in the car park. 

Yaz leans on the bar reading through their list making sure everything has been delivered and is in the right place. She’s checking them off carefully, not wanting to make any mistakes and face the wrath or the woman that likes gold a little bit too much. However after being blinded by gold it’s refreshing to see a hand with a silver ring on the thumb placing a chilled silver can of diet coke in front of her. 

She looks up and sees the person she expects to see but still is taken back by how they look up close. Especially as they stand behind the bar, sleeves rolled up to their elbows and a couple of shirt buttons undone, just flashing a bit of collarbone. How can one person look so cool in a work uniform? Yaz gets so distracted by her own question the caterer has to nod as the drink to remind her it’s there.

“Take it, it’s for you.” They smile. 

“Thank you.” Yaz smiles back, taking the offering.

“Stay hydrated. It’s getting hot in here.” They say, walking away with their own fizzy drink.

Yaz watches. Of course she watches them walk across the room, looking over their shoulder back at Yaz to give her one last smile before disappearing into the kitchen, most likely to hang out with the chef. Once again, Yaz is in awe with the confidence they carry themself with. She wishes she had that kind of confidence in herself. She also wishes she could remember their name. 

“You could say that.” Yaz mumbles.

“So…” Jack slides up the bar with a cheeky swagger. “Got the hots for the cute caterer?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively in that cheeky manner Jack so often dons.

“Not really the hots but I do like them.” Yaz says. She tells herself she’s being truthful, whether she actually is is a whole other issue she’s not ready to confront yet.

“How much time have you wasted chatting to them then? I bet it’s a lot.” Jack smirks.

“We’ve only spoken twice.” Yaz knocks him down a peg or two with that fact. 

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. I kind of just think it would be cooler to properly get to know them, you know?” Yaz says. 

“Oh kid.” Jack shakes his head at her, obviously knowing something she doesn’t. “We’ve gotta do something about that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twitter: helenasmells  
> tumblr: kiras-monkey-bum-face
> 
> welcome to another adventure! this fic personally means a lot to me on many levels so please if you're enjoying it, tell me! I hope you'll stick around for the ride :) x
> 
> updates every Friday at 8pm GMT


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content waning: Yaz has a small panic attack, symptoms mildly described
> 
> feel free to message me on tumblr or twitter if you want the exact place where it starts and ends if you want to avoid it and I can give you a swift plot run down instead, please make sure to look after yourself! I'm nice, I swear you don't have to feel scared to ask

Yaz stares at her can on diet coke can on her nightstand. She’s toyed with opening and drinking it the past couple of days but if she’s being honest she doesn’t really like cola. She’s more of a fancy fruit juice kind of girl or maybe just some fruity pop to refresh her on a hot day but the gesture of the caterer to give her an ice cold drink was incredibly kind and Yaz doesn’t have the heart to chuck it out or give it to someone else. Every time she looks at it, she sees the image of them behind the bar, handing over the drink with a slender hand and acting like they rule the place.

As Yaz settles down for bed she goes through what she’s going to have to pick up tomorrow. Couple of lanterns. Some battery powered lights. Some candle holders. She’s being sent out alone so it can’t be much. Yaz grabs her phone to check to see if there’s a digital list or note added to her shift so she can be fully prepared. When she logs on however she sees that the next two months worth shifts have been added by Ryan. There’s a lot. She knew there would be a lot with the season getting started but blimey. Distracted from her original task Yaz starts to click through them all to see what she’s doing and how long it’s going to be. Blue Box Barn, the hotel Najia works at, Blue Box Barn, the place where the owner is just a miserable dick, Blue Box Barn, Blue Box Barn, a midnight pick up at Blue Box Barn, Blue Box-

“What?” Yaz mutters to herself as she keeps reading the same venue name over and over again. 

It must be a glitch. Must be. There is no way that Yaz, although with smatterings of other venues here and there, is going to be spending the whole season at Blue Box Barn. She knows the place has a busy booked up season coming with back to back weddings at weekends- weekends that start on Wednesdays- but bloody hell Yaz can’t be doing all of them. She’ll end up crashing and burning, surely.

Before setting off in the van the next day Yaz pops into the office hidden around the corner of the industrial park to speak to Ryan about her schedule. He’s always first in, preferring to get his work done in the morning so he can finish in time to go and play basketball with Tibo, and he smiles warmly at his old school friend as she enters the otherwise empty office.

“Am I banned from almost every venue or something?” Yaz asks. 

“What?” He frowns. 

“Why am I going to triple B so much?” 

“Oooh! Donna wants you there. She likes you, she trusts you to do it properly.” Ryan explains. Yaz squints her eyes in suspicion, not buying it. No venue owner has ever specifically requested a certain staff member before. 

“And Jack hasn’t said anything to you at all?” She asks with Jack’s insistence that she needs to get to know the blonde caterer running through her mind.

“No. What would Jack have to say to me? Should I know something?” 

“Nothin’.” Yaz doesn’t bother explaining. 

She sets off by herself, her only company being the vans radio and all the other road users. Yaz must admit that she prefers working with other people, specifically Bill, and Jack is growing on her as well, and it’s just nicer to have someone to talk to. But, it is what it is, and Yaz gets on with her journey contently.

The mornings where she’s collecting and taking down when there isn’t a wedding needing to be set up directly after are far less stressful than when the weddings are back to back. Now, she just gets to take her time, not rush and properly make sure everything is taken care of. She also gets to joke around a lot more with the staff at the venue and hear the stories about the previous wedding and the chaos and scandals it caused. It’s the fun part, no doubt, and everything seems to come down a lot faster than it does going up. Strangely a couple of caterers are in too, dealing with some ruined tablecloths and bent cutlery and unknowingly Yaz’s eyes scan the room looking for a head of blonde hair. 

Once confirming that she can’t see who she’s looking for Yaz gets on with what she came here to do. Donna pops in to gossip with Yaz about how horrible the people who were in her venue were last night- destroying furniture and cutlery and drinking far too much to have a sensible thought. Of course she would never say such a thing if they were still on the property, it would be disastrous for reputation if she was overheard, but it must be known that when you’re the only sober person in a room full of drunk people, staff remember a lot. 

Upon hearing about the destructive behaviour of the party last night Yaz makes an extra special effort to examine every item she picks up for scratches cracks and chips. Whatever damage will need to be paid for and if she doesn’t notice any, Yaz will get blamed and the replacement will have to come out of her paycheck. 

“Watch it!” 

Yaz feels her body getting pushed backwards before she hears the warning. It’s all a bit of a blur really; the stranger with one arm around her waist and the other holding her head to their chest pushing her further and further back until there’s a tremendous crash. The sound of smashing glass and heavy iron hitting the floor and then a stunned silence. Yaz turns her head and sees one of the four chandeliers in the room- the one she was just standing under- completely broken on the floor.

“Everyone okay?” The chef breaks the silence from the doorway of the kitchen. 

“That wasn’t me.” Yaz tries to play the near death experience off for laughs, not having a clue how else to process it. 

“Some arse was hanging from it when he was drunk yesterday. Must’ve weakened it.”

The room comes alive again with other suppliers and staff muttering about the fact that this has happened. Should they call someone? Emergency services? An electrician? The guy from the night before who created the danger in the first place?

“You good?” Her savior asks, releasing their grip on her. The commotion around her goes quiet and Yaz only focuses on this one soft voice.

“Yeah. I think. No harm done.” Yaz says to keep herself calm and ignore the fact she could have just got seriously injured.

After checking over her body Yaz looks up at the person who saved her. Catering staff, she could tell that already when her face was planted in their chest. She raises her gaze and sees those same hazel green eyes and blonde hair neatly tied back showing the undercut back and sides. It's Greg- no that's not their name. Garret? No, that's still not it. She's become so obsessed with this face and its features that she's truly forgotten it's name.

“I’m George.” They extend their hand for Yaz to shake.

Yaz takes it with a shaky grip. She can't tell if it's because of the accident or because it's the person who she's been sneaking curious looks at, who jumped in and protected her without ever even having a proper conversation with her before. 

“Yaz.” 

George smiles then looks down at the floor around them covered with smashed glass. 

“I better get a brush.” George says. With their hand leaving Yaz’s it means Yaz has no contact anymore and she starts to feel horribly unstable on her feet.

“Stay where you are George- everyone stay where you are at least until I’ve turned off the power and then watch where you step.” Donna orders. 

Yaz stays put, too shook to move. At least voluntarily. She can feel her body shivering as she looks at the crash site in front of her and in line with her body she feels her breathing go shallow. 

“Are you sure you’re okay Yaz?” The comfort of George’s hand falls on her shoulder. 

“I could do with some water.” Yaz nods. 

“Alright. Just hold on a moment.” They squeeze her shoulder.

George waits until all the other lights go off before guiding Yaz through the shattered glass and into the kitchen. They sit Yaz down on a stool and drags an empty wooden crate over to sit opposite her. The chef hands Yaz a glass of cold water and she takes a shaky sip. 

“Not exactly what you expect to happen first thing in the morning is it?” George says with a kind, concerned smile. 

“You could say that.” Yaz tries to laugh lightly. 

“Deep breaths kid.” The chef gently pats her back.

Yaz does as he says and takes five minutes for herself. She’s not had to sort herself out like this for a while now. It’s almost like she’s forgotten the feeling. That’s strange. At one point she thought she would never stop feeling this way and now she’s extra taken aback from the feeling inhibiting her. George stays with her but doesn’t interrupt to make sure Yaz gets to do whatever she needs to do. 

“Thank you.” Yaz says when she feels she can. “For pushing me out the way.” 

“No problem.” George shrugs like it’s nothing; like they didn’t put themself in danger too.

“You alright Yaz?” Donna comes in holding a couple of sheets of paper. Yaz can already guess what it’s for.

“Yeah I’m okay.” Yaz says.

“Can we get you to just write up a quick statement about what happened?” She hands one of the sheets to Yaz. “You too George but you’ll have to sign it Georgin-”

“Yep! I know, thank you.” George cuts Donna off with a horribly bitter smile. 

Sensing she’s said the wrong thing, Donna makes herself scarce, leaving only a pen for the two to share behind her. George sighs, dipping their head down and running their hands over their hair then letting them hang between their legs. Yaz knows she should get on and write up her statement but the state of the person in front of her makes her hold off. Like there are words hanging in the air needing to be said. George looks up and Yaz can’t help but note that the air of confidence and assurance has disappeared from their eyes leaving them looking far more… human. Not a mystery for Yaz to solve from across the room, just a normal softened person.

“Technically my legal name is still Georgina but I’d like it if you would forget that fact. Just George or Georgie.” George says.

“Course.” Yaz nods. If she’s honest she hadn’t really taken note of Donna’s mistake as it was clearly something George didn’t want her to hear by the way they interrupted. 

Yaz writes literally just a couple of sentences about the event. She was standing under the chandelier and then she wasn’t. George on the other hand scribbles down almost a page of detail and it makes Yaz wonder whether they’re just really observant or if Yaz was just blind to the failing structure above her head. Or maybe their habit of randomly staring at each other just came at a lucky moment. Yaz watches George wince when they sign their name at the bottom.

“That should be enough.” George says. “Imagine getting pissed at a wedding and then waking up the next day to find a massive bill for a chandelier on your doorstep.”

“If he didn’t have a headache already…” Yaz cracks a genuine smile.

“Can I have your phone?” George asks. 

“Why?” Yaz asks back, not willing to hand her unlocked phone over to any old stranger. 

“I want to put my number in it. So if you feel a bit… funny about anything later you have someone to talk to.” George says. 

“Can I get your phone too then?” 

George without hesitation reaches into their trouser pocket and uses their thumb to make the screen light up before handing it to Yaz. Yaz does the same with her phone. The two of them exchange details, meaning that not only does Yaz leave work with a record of the caterer's name, but their number too. 

Yaz gets a text at half ten that night from George checking that she’s okay. It’s a sweet thing to do considering they still don’t really know each other. She was hoping that this incident would stay between George, herself and everyone else that witnessed it, however when Yaz gets into work the next morning Ryan calls her around to the office where their boss, Amelia Pond waits for them to return. 

“You should have told me.” Amy says. “If you had gotten hurt that would’ve been on me.”

“I didn’t get hurt though.” Yaz smirks like she hasn’t been considering how bad it could have ended all night. 

“Wanna see the CCTV?” Amy asks. 

“There was CCTV?”

Yaz rushes over to the boss’ computer screen with a new need to see exactly what happened yesterday. She watches over Amy’s shoulder as the black and white screen comes to life. It’s from the camera at the far end of the room where you can clearly see the entire hall. Yaz sees herself counting, Donna is at the corner of the bar searching through paperwork and a couple of caterers, one of them being George, are hanging around near the entrance recording what supplies got damaged by the wedding party. George must have turned up while Yaz was too busy working to notice. 

“You’re lucky this person looked up when they did.” Amy says, pointing at George on the screen.

Sure enough George looks up but not at the structure above Yaz at first. No, they look at Yaz herself and there’s a little bit of a smile on their lips until something catches their eye or their ears and they look up. Yaz drags her attention away from George and to the iron chandelier that’s lightly swinging from side to side. George sprints across the room faster than the camera can process. They shove Yaz out of the way just as the structure’s supports fail and they very clearly hold Yaz as tight as they possibly can to keep them safe. 

Watching the incident play out makes Yaz feel a little sick to her stomach. She understands now why she needed to make a statement and make it clear she was not hurt. She’s lucky not even a small shard of glass touched her. It makes her wonder if George took some of the damage and didn’t tell her, or maybe they found some glass in their shoes or their clothes when they got home. 

“Can that be sent to me?” Yaz asks. 

“Sure.” Amy gets to it right away. “Get going then, the van won’t load itself.” 

Ryan helps Yaz pack everything in since Bill is late. She says it’s because of traffic but Yaz knows it’s because she slept in and she just doesn’t want to say it.

“You’ve got to stop doing this otherwise Amy’ll notice.” Yaz takes it upon herself to lecture her friend. 

“What’s got into your knickers this morning?” Bill grins. “Mad that we’re not going to triple B so you can’t swoon over the sexy caterer?” 

“Their name’s George.” Yaz says. 

“First name basis now are we?” Bill wiggles her eyebrows. Yaz is focusing on the road ahead of her but she can sense her doing it. “How’s that come about?”

Yaz scoffs in a  _ ‘you don’t know the half of it’  _ way and blindly unlocks her phone with the pad of her thumb. She doesn’t look down since she knows the video’s still open from where Amy sent it, and she hands it to Bill. 

“Watch.” 

Bill presses play on the soundless video and creates her own audio by gasping in shock.

“Mate are you okay?” Bill asks. 

“I am now.” Yaz says to convince herself.

Bill leans across the spare seat in the middle, wrapping her arms around Yaz’s shoulders to show how much she cares that she’s okay. Yaz jokingly shakes her off, still not wanting to think about the seriousness of it all, and tries to move the conversation along  _ away _ from the topic of George. Not because of the teasing but more because talking about George means talking about the incident and Yaz wants to ignore that for at least one more day.

They arrive promptly at the hotel Najia works at. She’s there to greet them at the front desk and lead them into the massive hall they call the events suite. It’s more modern than some of the other hotels around here and Najia takes deep pride in that like she’s the owner not just the general manager. She takes drink orders from the two women then disappears to let them get on with their work. There are few other suppliers and a fair few teenagers laying tables wearing suits that are too big for them. Must be summer staff. 

“Hey, you guys are Amy Pond's lot right?” The guy setting up some fancy looking lighting says, approaching Bill. 

“Yeah we are.” Bill smiles. 

“What went on at Blue Box Barn yesterday? We heard it was one of you lot.” 

“Wow news travels fast.” Yaz mutters, disturbed that she’s a topic of conversation although her name isn’t in the picture. Yet.

“Did it really fall on ya?” He asks. 

“What’s fallen?” Najia asks, two teas in hand. 

Yaz plans to stutter and stall the proper answer from getting to her mum but she can’t get even the chance to enact it before Bill opens her mouth. 

“Chandelier at Blue Box Barn fell on Yaz.” Bill announces.

“It didn’t-”

“It  _ what? _ ” Najia places down the two mugs of tea to stop her from dropping them. 

“Mum I’m fine!” Yaz insists before she gets smothered at her place of work. She then turns to address everyone else listening in the room. “Yes an iron chandelier broke and fell after someone swung from it the night before, I was standing underneath it but one of the caterers got me out the way.” 

“It was close though. I saw the video.” 

Yaz glares at Bill who has unknowingly just put her in a world of shit with her mum. A cold hard look manages to get her to take the hint and rightfully so Bill gestures zipping her lips shut and locking them.

“We’re talking more about this when you get home. And I’m watching that video.” Najia says, wagging a very unimpressed finger in her daughter's face. 

Najia’s outburst of concern leaves the rest of the room pausing their own work to listen into the fiasco. Yaz sees it but her mum doesn’t and she leaves without noting it. Bill and Yaz both sort of let out a sigh of relief; Yaz feeling like she’s a teenager again and Bill just grateful that Yaz isn’t laying into her for waving a red cloth in front of the bull. A low chuckle comes from behind Yaz, snapping her back into reality and the job she should be doing. 

“Okay you can tell the truth now. How bad was it?” Light man says, running wires through his hands. 

“Proper shit myself mate.” Yaz laughs at her truthful admittance.

Bill apologises for indirectly telling Najia that her daughter was almost hurt and of course Yaz forgives her. It’s not Bill’s fault that since a rather tough year in secondary school her mother has tried to wrap her in cotton wool, not letting her get into any kind of danger to save on family heartache when all she’s really doing is smothering both her children. Maybe not Sonya as much but still, it’s just her strange way of showing how much she loves her children even in adulthood. 

After that Bill and Yaz crack on and are done within an hour. Wanting some extra money the two women hang around doing odd jobs for the office team and tidy up the stock unit. Yaz tries not to move too much stock around, not wanting to disrupt the processes and patterns of the stock unit team who are known to get tetchy when things get moved around. After having enough Yaz goes home. She should look for another job really. She can’t just do three hour shifts like today all the time despite how well Amy pays her. But she won’t admit that to her mum. Just one more season. One more summer. 

The second Najia gets home, Yaz wishes she had moved in with Bill months ago when she said she needed a new flatmate. If she had accepted that offer she would be chilling out with her friend rather than dreading the conversation that’s coming. They’d maybe share a takeaway and discuss funny stories from work, perhaps talk about a cute girl Bill saw on a night out. But now she feels very stuck. 

“There’s a job at the hotel where chandeliers won’t get dropped on you.” Is this first thing Najia says. 

“I’m not quitting my job.” Yaz lays down her base argument. She’s not leaving. Just one more summer before she considers it. 

“What happened Yaz?”

“I told you. A lighting fixture broke and I got moved out the way in time. It was a freak accident mum and I’m fine.” Yaz repeats. 

“Can I see the video?”

Again, Yaz pulls up the video on her phone. “Here.” She hands it over. 

Yaz lets her watch it. Other people have watched it more than she has and she’s the one that lived it. George too. George lived it. Maybe she should talk to George. 

“Are you sure you’re fine Yaz?” Najia asks. 

“I was a bit shook up but George looked after me.” Yaz shrugs remembering how she was never left alone. 

“Who’s George?”

“The one who pushed me out the way.” Yaz says. “I’m fine now mum I promise.” 

Najia hands back her daughter's phone, promptly using that same hand to cup her cheek “So long as you’re okay.”

“I am.” Yaz drones, getting a little tired or repeating the same thing to everyone she meets today.

Najia tells Hakim. Sonya overhears. Everyone wants to see the video and Yaz is forced to talk about what happened at work all the way through dinner and push away advancing suggestions about getting a new, safer job. Yaz wishes they would go back to bugging her about getting a partner. At least then there were more variations in their arguments. Yaz hopes that tomorrow everyone will forget about it; she’ll go into work and she’ll crack on with what she enjoys doing and she’ll banter with some caterers about anything other than her near death experience. All she needs to do is just lay her head down and sleep. 

Or at least that’s what she’d like to do if her phone would stop ringing. Yaz sits up in bed. To be fair it’s only half nine and she’s just tired with an early start to get up for. She reaches for her phone and answers it without bothering to check who it is- guessing that it’s probably her Nani or some other family member her mum has been chatting to. 

“Hello.” Yaz answers. 

_ “Hey.”  _

George. Yaz recognises their voice instantly.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Yaz smiles at the unexpected connection. 

_ “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” _

“Really?” Yaz asks.

_ “No, I wanted to know if people are making a fuss of you like they’re making a fuss of me because it’s really starting to grate on my dick.”  _ George playfully groans depicting all the same pain Yaz has also been feeling the past twenty four hours. 

“God they haven’t shut up all day.” Yaz copies their tone. 

_ “Did you see the video?” _

“Yeah. Amy showed me. She said I was really lucky you looked up when you did.” 

_ “I know. It’s scary when you really think about it. The only person I really want to talk about it with is you.”  _

“Same.” Yaz agrees that the two of them have the best understanding of it all. 

There’s a little bit of quiet on both ends of the line with neither party knowing exactly what to say next. Should Yaz start to talk about it? Even though they’ve both said they’re tired of other people talking to them about it? But then they wouldn’t mind talking to each other?

_ “I’m sorry, I know we don’t really know each other-” _

“It’s fine.” Yaz insists. “I’m just a bit tired, you know.”

_ “Are you coming to triple B tomorrow?”  _ George asks.

“I am.” Yaz recalls her schedule. 

_ “See you tomorrow then?” George asks hopefully.  _

“Bright and early.” Yaz says.

Then the line goes dead. Yaz double checks that George is gone and seeing that they are she frowns a little in confusion at the lack of a sign off.

“Bit weird.” Yaz mumbles, but pays no mind to it. She tucks herself back into bed and tries to get some proper sleep.

Blue Box Barn is busy busy in the morning. Big wedding means a big staff body needed to tend to its needs and Yaz and Bill are just one part of a big old machine. They’re so busy that no one has a chance to even approach Yaz, except the florist who comes to ask whether she can attach some flowers to the seating plan. When George spots Yaz through the crowd they give her a little wave and a stressed smile however when they make a move in Yaz’s direction Donna unknowingly steps in front of them with her own query. They don’t get to speak to each other in the end. 

Yaz has to really motivate herself to go to work the next day. The man who owns this venue hidden miles away from civilization has such a strange personality you never know if he’s going to be miserable and borderline abusive or not. Yaz has to use double her energy to do her work to the professional standard expected while also putting her public relations  demeanour up to maximum. He’s such a git at times that Amy is coming with Yaz just to butter him up and stand up for her staff if need be. 

“Remember the CCTV here has sound too.” Amy reminds her. “Don’t get caught out by the sly bastard.”

They enter through the staff entrance knowing they’ll get told off if they enter through any other way and start to tie diagonal bows on the chairs all lined up and ready for the ceremony happening in a few hours. They're difficult enough to tie uniformly already without Harold Saxon following them, keeping the chairs a measured distance apart to keep his own uniformity. Yaz bites her tongue. So does Amy even though Yaz knows it’s paining her to do so. Their next task is to place perspex stands- basically big clear plastic rectangles that are four feet high- and faux flower arrangements in each corner of the room. A simple thing to do really, especially with notes from the bride as to where she wants them. Yaz places the last one in the right hand corner of the room next to a door. There isn’t a fire exit sign so Yaz assumes it’s fine to put there. 

“Uh- ladies that can’t go there.” Saxon shouts from the back of the room, startling Yaz somewhat more than when she almost got crushed by a chandelier. 

“That’s where the bride has specified for it to be.” Amy speaks for Yaz. 

“I don’t know who sold that to her Amelia but it can’t go there, it’s in the way of the caterers entrance. Move it please.” He storms out. Actually he just walks with purpose, but he just looks like he’s storming everywhere anyway.

“Where shall I move it?” Yaz asks Amy.

“Let's move both of them to either side of the registrar’s table.” Amy suggests. 

They do it. It looks bad compared to the placement of the two other perspex stands that are in the far corners at the back of the room. It’s annoying because this design flaw will reflect on Amy’s business rather than Toclafane protocol. If the bride has a complaint it will come into their office inbox, not Saxons’. They leave it as it is and Yaz gets sent to roll out the aisle runner while Amy goes to patch up relations with Saxon. 

She rolls it out making an effort not to step on it and leave marks in the fabric. Guests will end up treading all over the cream fibers anyway as they take their seats but Yaz tries to keep it as pristine as possible for as long as she can. She picks up flakes of confetti that are left over from the last wedding it was used at and puts them in her back pockets where they will stay until she gets to a bin. Two sets of footsteps come towards her and she can take three guesses as to who it is. 

“Missed one dear.” Saxon squats down right next to Yaz and picks up a flake of confetti she’s missed. The way he calls her dear makes her want to smack him around the face. “Nice job ladies.” He says looking around. He smiles a slimy smile then disappears. 

“Come on, let’s go.” Amy drags Yaz away before she says something unsavory to be recorded to CCTV.

“That man is in the wrong fucking industry. How can he not have been punched by a groom yet?” Amy says as they drive off of the premises. 

“How’s he not been punched by his own staff yet, they seem to be different people every time I come here?” Yaz says. 

“Very high turnover.” Amy says. “Not like me ‘ey Yaz.” 

Yaz tries not to cringe at the fact she’s going to hand in her notice sooner or later to move on to something different without so much as hinting at leaving beforehand. So, she moves the conversation on. 

“There are some new people at Blue Box Barn too.” Yaz says. 

“What, like your saviour?”

“Their name’s George.” Yaz says. “And yeah. There’s a few others at other venues too I’ve noticed.” 

“You don’t mind being sent to triple B so much do you?” Amy checks. 

“Nah. I’ll be fine.” Yaz says. She realises in that moment that now, instead of imagining the venue's scenic grounds and building, Yaz thinks of George. Must be the trauma of the accident. 

“Good.” Amy smiles as she breaks to avoid running down a jogger. “They like you there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you guys still sticking with me? cool cool cool just checking


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm too impatient with myself, I want to share this story so bad that updates are now every Friday at 5pm GMT

Yaz goes to Blue Box Barn two more times and two more times Yaz and George don’t get the chance to speak. They’re just too busy, far too busy to talk about anything other than work and they’re both under the surveillance of colleagues all the time. Yaz and George are back being reduced to glancing at each other across a room, giving friendly smiles when they both end up looking at each other at the same time, making unneeded trips past each other in the hopes of getting a two sentence conversation. Okay, maybe that last one is just Yaz if she’s being truthful. 

It’s not until Yaz has been sent on her own to triple B that she realises the lack or regular human contact. It’s only still the very start of the season but she’s worked almost every day so far, leaving her no time for recreation. Bill has her girlfriend Heather meanwhile Yaz just has the people she sees at work and her sister. When she arrives it’s ten to midnight- not the usual time people like her come here but the venue needs everything taken down by six in the morning and this is really the only time to do it, unless Yaz wants to get up at three in the morning. Midnight pick ups get a standard rate of £90 anyway, no matter how long they take, so Yaz doesn’t mind picking up these shifts. She can see as she looks into the venue from the cab of her van that some people are leaving already, stumbling out to greet their taxi driver to beat the rush of everyone leaving at once. She sees others taking a moment of fresh air in the sheltered outdoor area, cuddled up together under blankets talking quietly. It’s small moments like this that Yaz observes that remind her of the humanity behind the circus that is a wedding. 

At five to midnight Yaz finds herself getting out and walking past all these people to stand in the entrance hallway that separates the reception barn from the toilets. She leans against the doorframe, not letting her body be totally visible to the party goers, and watches. Family and friends dance around the bride and groom for one final song before they have to all pack up and leave for the night. The bride is pretty. The groom’s kinda hot but in a nerdy kind of way. All of them are drunk. Yaz finds it funny to watch since half of these people won’t remember what she’s witnessing happen in the morning. But, from the viewfinder of the doorway, Yaz can also see some proper love. Witnessing it makes her bones ache with a longing to be perfectly happy and content with someone for herself that she trusts and loves enough till death do they part. Maybe she does want the big wedding, the family all around her, her partner by her side and always willing to sneak off into the toilets just to have a couple of moments alone. It’s probably the fact it’s late at night and Yaz hasn’t had a normal conversation with a friend in weeks… but what she’s watching… the romance of it all... it’s infectious. 

“They’re a nice couple these two.” Donna says, appearing at Yaz’s side. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” Yaz says. 

“Ah, you see, you can’t have a reception without me.” Donna taps the side of her nose knowingly. “I’m also making sure people don’t start swinging on my lights.”

“Good move.” Yaz nods in agreement with what she’s doing.

“Can’t have any more people hanging from the ceiling.” 

Yaz turns her eyes back to everyone surrounding the DJ for their last few moments of entertainment until Donna kicks them out, however Yaz’s attention is drawn away from the large gathering to an orange glow she catches with the corner of her eye. Out of the big glass door diagonally across from her she sees light from the kitchen weakly illuminate a bit of patio only available to staff. There are a couple of orange dots, the things that caught her eye in the first place that she can now see are lit ends of cigarettes, and George standing in the doorway with the light of the kitchen illuminating the outline of their body. George likes to work, Yaz has figured at least that much out about them. They’re just always here for every shift and they’ve always got a smile on their face. They’re cute. Fit, too. Nice to look at- no. Yaz can’t think that. If she thinks that, something bad will happen.

“What do you think of them?” Donna asks, gesturing at where Yaz was just looking. 

“Who? George?” Yaz asks. Donna nods. “Not really had the chance to talk to them properly yet.”

“I think you’d get on.” Donna says. 

“I’d need a  _ chance _ to get to know them first, it’s too busy here to get a word in edgewise.” Yaz says. Donna smiles, knowing what she means.

The women turn back to watch the small gathering of staff that are now dancing erratically to their own upbeat song. Yaz can’t help but smile as she watches George dance around in circles moving their arms around incoherently before they jump on the chefs back and get carried around in circles doing the exact same thing. On one particular spin George’s eyes meet Yaz’s and when they rotate around again they wave at Yaz with a beaming smile. 

“Sweet kid. Bit of a drifter just trying to get by but they work hard. Takes every shift that’s up for grabs. A romantic.” 

“Aren’t we all romantics in this industry? Yaz asks. 

“Everyone but Harold Saxon.”

“Prick.” Yaz scoffs. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen that brings us to the end of our celebrations tonight, give it up one more time for our lovely Bride and Groom!” The DJ says a bit too excitedly for someone who’s supposed to be winding things down. 

“Right, let me know if anyone starts misbehaving.” Donna instructs Yaz.

“Will do.” 

Yaz gives everyone another five minutes to gather themselves and their belongings and enters the barn when it’s just the DJ left. Half the room has half dressed tables squished together and the other half has been used as the dance floor. As she assesses the state of the room Yaz sees that some of the chair dressings have been trampled on. How? She doesn’t know but the imprints of shoes are undoubted. 

“Good gig?” Yaz asks the DJ to be friendly. 

“Yeah, not bad thanks.” 

Yaz heads to the kitchen to fetch a bin bag to place the sashes in, having forgotten to bring a laundry bag. She doesn’t quite understand why she’s being paid almost a hundred quid to come and collect some chair dressings that can easily be stripped in minutes but she’s not going to bring it up. She’ll take the money. 

“Hey Yaz!” George bounds happily towards her, the two other men behind them.

“George. Hey.” Yaz rips off a bin bag from the roll. 

“Not seen you here at this time before.” George comments.

“I’m usually the one put on early starts.” Yaz shrugs. “What about you, you don’t ever seem to sleep?”

“I like to keep myself busy.” George smiles. 

“Tables aren’t going to clear themselves Georgie.” The chef slaps them on the shoulder and hands George a proper laundry bag. 

George politely presses their lips together, widening their eyes as if to say ‘we better stop chatting’ so Yaz cracks on with stripping the chairs and putting the sashes into the bin bag. George strips the linen off the tables and bins the paper napkins that served bacon and sausage baps in them that were served at around eight. The chef is packing up in the kitchen and the other bloke that was outside with the chef and George stacks up chairs along the walls once Yaz is done with them. She’s finished in a flash but offers to stay and help George wipe down tables, collapse the tables and move them back into the storage shed. George lets her clean and collapse the tables but refuses to let her do any heavy work. Instead they order the two blokes to do it while they walk her out to the van. 

“I do have some muscle you know.” Yaz tells them. She leans against the drivers door of the van to take a casual stance.

“So do I, and I don’t doubt that, but why use them when you can get other people to do it?” George leans against the logoed part of the back of the van in a similar fashion. 

“Smart.” Yaz indulges their smugness over the task distribution. 

“We still haven’t talked about what happened.” George says, switching up topics. 

Yaz tries her best to stop herself from sighing and coming off as rude. “Do we really have to?” She asks.

“Not really. I just wanted an excuse to keep talking to you.” George folds their arms in front of their chest and smiles a wonky smile. 

Yaz mimics the movement but adds suspicious squinting eyes. 

“Are you flirting with me?” She asks. 

George’s demeanor changes completely with the wonky smile disappearing.

“If it comes off that way I didn’t mean it like that.” George backtracks. 

“It’s okay Georgie.” Yaz brushes away her assumption. It was a stupid assumption. Stupid. 

“If I was properly flirting with you you’d know about it. ‘Cus I’m terrible at it.” George shrugs proudly at their known flaw.

“I don’t believe that.” Yaz smirks. 

“What makes you say that?” George pushes their hands into their trouser pockets leaving their thumbs sticking out. Yaz can’t tell whether it’s intentional or not but the action makes her wish they actually are flirting. Surely they can’t be oblivious to how attractive they look right now? Or maybe it’s just her lack of human interaction raising its ugly head again.

“You just come across as very confident, that’s all.” Yaz says, hoping her voice isn’t giving away her intrigued attraction. 

“It took me a long time to get confident with myself. Why waste it?” George’s wonky smile returns. “I’ll let you get home.” They smack the van two times like it’s a sign of respect to the vehicle they were using as a wall to rest on, then walk off. 

“Goodnight George.” Yaz says over her shoulder. 

“Night Yaz.” George throws their hand up in the air. They spin on their heels with gravel crunching underfoot and start to walk backwards. “Get home safe.” They smile.

Yaz climbs into the cab of the van and starts up the engine. The clock on the dashboard tells her it’s past one in the morning. She should be back at base by now. Whoopsies. Anyway, Yaz puts the beast into reverse, turns it around and drives out. 

Away from the venue, and away from the person, Yaz takes a deep breath and has to remind herself that George, even though a striking specimen of a human, is  _ not _ up for grabs. No crushes, no flirting, no attempt at dating. Yaz comes here to work, not play. She’s working. George is working. It would be inappropriate. It  _ cannot happen.  _ Whatever ‘it’ is.

Yaz gets back at twenty past two in the morning. It’ll take her another fifteen minutes to get home but she’s not working tomorrow so she should be fine. She can sleep in and catch up with her washing, maybe go swimming or go to the park. Spend some time with herself and gather her thoughts but to do all that she actually has to get home, into her bed to sleep. She quickly checks her phone to plug into her aux cord but is met with a text from Amy. 

_ “You good? Should’ve clocked out by now.” _

Not wanting to say she’s been hanging around for no reason with George, Yaz keeps her reply to basic facts. 

_ “Got held up. Back now, about to go home.”  _ Yaz replies although it’s not like Amy’s paying her by the hour. It’s nice that Amy checks up on her staff. 

Yaz ends up sleeping through until half eleven in the morning and decides to take herself to brunch at the cafe down the road. Sonya comes with her just because Yaz is paying. They have a good time together and don’t bicker once, which is a surprise. They get on but there’s always a little bit of bickering. Sonya however declines the invitation to visit the park with Yaz and heads home while Yaz strolls there, taking her time and enjoying the moments where the sun isn’t hidden behind clouds. She finds a secluded spot in the park under some trees and settles in for a bit of people watching- not judging, just watching. 

When her eyes land on a couple a few meters away from her, cuddling, laughing and smiling, though, Yaz decides it’s time to move along. She spends all her time with couples she doesn’t want to have to watch them on her day off too. It’s not because she wishes it was her being treated to a packed lunch in the park with someone who can’t keep their hands off of her. 

Definitely not because of that.

Yaz walks and walks and walks around town just wanting to be in the fresh air by herself for as long as she can. She lets the oxygen get right down to her bones, infusing her bloodstream with it until she’s so refreshed she feels a comfortable tired and is ready to take her body back home. Some might say she’s wasted her day. It’s certainly what her dad tells her but he spends his time researching conspiracies so she doesn’t really class his opinion as valid. Plus when she gets back she gets her washing sorted, so it’s not like she’s done completely nothing by the time she gets back into bed. 

When her alarm rattles her awake the next morning Yaz lets herself leave it as late as possible to get out of bed. She’s working fourteen days straight now, the weather outside has taken a turn for the worse and it’s only four in the morning. A summer storm to get rid of the humidity in the air. 

The van is packed to the brim with props, fake trees, chair covers, lighting, ridiculously large ‘thrones’ for the bride and groom, lovey dovey signs with rhyming instructions like ‘choose a seat not a side, we’re all family once the knot is tied’. Jack makes fun of that one in particular on the way there. She parks as close as possible to the entrance as to not soak herself through just from walking everything inside through the rain storm. In the small gap of space left in the back of the van Jack and Yaz stand together trying to figure out how to do this the best they can. Try and take the heavy stuff first or the delicates? Yaz chooses delicates, Jack chooses heavy stuff so they decide to flip a coin. Yaz wins and the two of them carry in the delicates as fast as they can without slipping over their own feet. They find themselves standing in the back of the van staring at the heavy items again trying to figure out a way to do this quickly without breaking their backs or legs or any other bones in their bodies for that matter. They could take an item each but they’d have to go slow. They could go two to an item and get them inside faster but then the process will equally be as slow with the amount of stuff that needs to be moved. 

“Let me help.” George runs out towards them in a Blue Box Barn branded raincoat. 

“You don’t have to.” Yaz tries to stop them but George just keeps coming. 

“You helped me the other night, let me help you now.” 

George holds Yaz’s gaze silently telling her to let them. To trust them. So, following her trusting gut, Yaz passes George one of the hideous thrones expecting to carry it with them but they just take off by themself, carrying the entire awkward structure on their own. Yaz knew they had some strength in their arms but damn.

“What exactly did you help them with?” Jack asks, untying the second throne from the wall. 

“Putting tables away.” Yaz comes to help. 

“Is tables a euphemism for you fingers and the store cupboard is their-”

“I know you’re only playing Jack but please don’t.” Yaz interrupts not wanting to hear it. 

“Understood.” Jack nods solemnly. “Tetchy subject.”

Yaz doesn’t quite agree with that last part. Sex isn’t really a tetchy subject for her it’s just the assumption of her and George having sex that doesn’t sit well in her mind. Especially as George should be back here any moment. 

Together the three of them as a team empty the van. Sharing the load shifts everything faster and although all of them get a little rained on it’s not as bad as it would be if it was just the two of them. Yaz is very grateful for Georege’s help and follows them into the kitchen where they’re hanging up their raincoat. 

“Hey.” Yaz gently touches George's elbow. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Unexpectedly, George pulls Yaz into a swift tight hug. Before Yaz can even part her lips to ask what all this is about George whispers a deathly silent secret in her ear. “Watch out for the bride's mother. She's driving me up the walls.” They let go of Yaz as fast as they grabbed her. 

Yaz stands stunted trying to process what’s just gone on and the information that’s been given to her while George rushes off to get back into what they’re supposed to be doing. 

“Everything okay?” Jack turns up behind her. 

“Bride’s mother is trouble.” Yaz whispers to Jack. 

“Gotcha.” 

George’s warning soon comes to prove itself in the form of a middle aged lady with tightly curled hair and a crisp white pantsuit saying she’s just come from inspecting the ceremony room. It confuses Yaz since there’s nothing to inspect yet but soon she realises that what she means is she expects something to be done in there already. Yaz goes to deal with the ceremony room with the knowledge and confidence that she’ll be able to do it best under the pressure of a watchful eye. With a constant barrage of questioning though Yaz feels herself starting to fray by the time she finishes and gets back to everyone else in the reception barn. George crosses Yaz’s path with their eyebrows raised in a ‘told you’ fashion. Yaz grins with gritted teeth.

The mothers’ unsavoury behaviour continues as tables are erected and decorations put up, telling staff where things should go despite the plans that have been given to them. Jack seems to be the only one who can change her mind about anything to keep it as it’s been paid for but Yaz can’t do it all alone. She needs him to be setting up with her because this time George has enough of their own problems to be dealing with and can’t drop those responsibilities to help. But Yaz pushes through because that’s what she does. She keeps going when the bride's mother is watching over her shoulder, she keeps her mouth shut when she struggles to tie a linen bow and she keeps her cool when she smashes a candle holder. There’s a blessed moment however when the mother steps out to take a phone call and Yaz feels like she can breathe. 

“Oi.” George hisses from the door of the kitchen. 

Yaz turns to look at them and is greeted by them waving their hand in a ‘come here’ motion. She does the same to Jack so that he comes along with her knowing that whatever George is going to say it’s going to be about their shared hell. George leads them both over to the pass where there’s a tray bake cake cut into squares, but only the squares from the dead middle have been taken out. 

“Mumzilla didn’t approve of these brownies because they were ‘burnt’ around the sides so we can have them.” 

“Oh, I like you.” Jack grins, helping himself to a little brown square. 

“Nice one George.” Yaz accepts the piece George is handing her.

“Not my doing, thank Chef for not chucking them in the bin.” George points at Chef, who now seemingly just goes by the name Chef. It would explain why he doesn't wear a name tag. A man of mystery.

“You lot deserve a treat after today. Just listening to that shite from in here made my ears bleed- my ears bled when she came in here and I'm not even supposed to be cooking this. It's only because Oswald's on holiday.” 

"Why isn't Donna here to put her in her place?" Yaz asks.

"She's at a conference." George says.

"My arse." Chef adds on. "I bet you she's hiding under her desk in the office." 

“Hang on a minute, why are you making brownies? I thought most people have wedding cakes for dessert.” Jack says between stuffing his face.

“They are. They’re having five courses plus cake.” 

“Bit extra.” Yaz mumbles. Surely at a wedding most people are too drunk to want to eat anything too heavy. 

“Excuse me!” The shrill voice returns. 

“Here we go again.” Chef sighs. 

“Waitress!”

George throws their head back and has to take a deep breath to steady themself.

“I’m not a fucking waitress.” They throw their brownie back into the tray to pick up later. “Not even a bloody woman.” 

Chef huffs strongly out of his nose. “They’ll be stealing my cigs after their shift at this rate.”

Yaz finishes off a brownie or two before going back out, just to give herself some extra strength to continue. The mother from hell is currently preoccupied with George telling them the prongs on the forks are far too long for her liking and George is stuck telling her that these are the standard and there’s nothing they can do to change it unless she wants to go out and buy her own for the caterers to lay out. Yaz feels somewhat guilty when her and Jack have to leave George to it but are comforted by the fact that more caterers are going to turn up closer to the time of the wedding. Her and Jack unashamedly bitch to Amy about how horrible the bride's mother was and she tells her own story about how she’s been ringing up the office every day for a week until today. Even after that gossiping session Yaz goes home and starts telling her family about it. 

“Seriously mum she was horrible! I felt so watched like I couldn’t even go to the toilet without her asking what I’m doing.” 

“I hate people.” Sonya grimaces. 

“I know that’s why you’re unemployed. Again.” Najia says. 

“She might have just been stressed on behalf of her kid.” Hakim tries to reason with Yaz’s ranting. 

“Dad it was like it was her own wedding. I don’t think she really gave a shit about what her daughter wanted.” Yaz says. 

“Stop talking about her now Yaz because you’re just winding yourself up.” Najia steps in. She’s right. Mother knows best.

“If you need a job Sonya, Amy could probably need a few extra staff this season.” Yaz says. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

“Because you don’t want to work or because you don’t want to work with me?” Yaz asks. Sonya flips her the bird. 

Yaz assumes that George is off the next day when she and Jack go to pick up everything from the night before since they don’t see them. They get it done as quickly as possible as to not attract the attention of the bride’s mother. The lad that’s married into her family needs all the luck in the world to be dealing with that at every other family function. Yaz hangs around the office again doing some bits and bobs for more money until she feels like she’s cheating Amy out of money then goes home. In some ways she wishes she had more to do but she’ll take the rest where she can get it. 

She doesn’t know what day of the week it is anymore. In the summer people have weddings whenever and wherever they can to fit in around holidays and school times and venue availability and the schedules of their guests. Yaz just knows there are days where she goes to triple B and sees Rose and Donna and George and then there are days where she doesn’t. However there is a welcome break in the cycle that is forced onto her by Ryan who invites her to their local pub for a meal and some drinks.

“I know we work in the wedding industry but you don’t actually have to be married to the job.” Ryan says, delivering their drinks and some nuts to their table for two. 

“You’re the one that scheduled me in.” Yaz points out, taking her summer berry flavoured juice. 

“We’re low on staff this year.” He shrugs. “Are you coping alright with it though?” 

“I’m dealing with it.” Yaz says. 

“I’m sorry dude.” Ryan apologises. 

“Not your fault so many people are getting hitched this year.” 

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” Ryan asks.

It could be her tiredness that makes her not want to lie but Yaz chooses to be truthful anyway. There’s no point in lying to Ryan Sinclair.

“All the time I’m doing stuff for other people and their love and it feels like I get nothing in return. I wanna love and be loved too.” Yaz says, wearing her true feelings on her sleeve. 

“Get on a dating app.” Ryan suggests. 

“I’m not signing up to dating apps.” Yaz refuses the idea. 

“How else are you meant to meet people? Unless a member of the bridal party is going to elope with you which I highly doubt, you’re basically left with Donna. Or Saxon.”

“Ew.”

“But you get what I’m saying.” Ryan’s lips slowly form into a smile. “Unless that new caterer at triple B has caught your eye.”

“George? Nah not really. I mean… they’re attractive and they’re nice to me but I don’t think anything would ever happen.” Yaz ponders.

“Why’d you sound so disappointed when you say that?”

“Because they’re fit? And nice- since when were you a designated matchmaker?” Yaz asks. 

“I just want to see my buddy happy.”

“No, you want gossip.” Yaz accuses him, rightfully so.

“Maybe that too.” Ryan shows a flash of a grin but it quickly fades. “Seriously though Yaz, get on a dating site. You’re a catch, you’ll get loads of matches.” 

“If you say so.” Yaz shrugs. Never good at taking a compliment is Yaz.

“C’mon. Mate. You’re...” 

Ryan leans forward in his squeaky chair with wide eyes, raised eyebrows and his top teeth chewing his bottom lip like a typical joker. He proceeds to eye Yaz up and down and wave his hands around as if he’s about to pull a card out of his sleeve for a magic trick. 

“Are you saying you would shag me Ryan?” Yaz asks. 

“Yasmin Khan don’t be gross!” Ryan leans back in his chair seemingly offended at the suggestion. “I mean yes but don’t be gross that’s not going to happen. It would feel incestuous.” 

“Good to know.” Yaz laughs.

“You’re like my baby sister.” Ryan reaches over to pinch Yaz’s cheek. She’s fast to bat his hand away.

“We’re the same- actually I’m older than you.” Yaz corrects him.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re still my little sister.” Ryan coos.

“Dick.” Yaz kicks him under the table and reaches for a menu filled with pub grub. 

In her dreams Yaz gets put by her conscience into a fictional mixture of all the wedding and event venues she’s ever worked at. She stands at the end of the aisle dressed in her mothers wedding get up with everyone she’s ever known sitting behind her. She’s not exactly sure who she’s waiting for but she gets restless enough to go on a hunt for whoever it is. Yaz wanders through corridors, gets lost in the hotel her mum works at, opens the wrong door and finds Harold Saxon trying to clone himself. Yaz hears herself say the word ‘again’ but swiftly moves to close the door on him and his operation. She tries the next door and walks into the kitchen of Blue Box Barn. Chef is there creating a brownie tower that almost reaches the ceiling but Yaz doesn’t stop to chat. She keeps moving, still in search of whoever she’s looking for. She spots a head of blonde hair at the far end of Blue Box Barn’s reception barn and something in her is telling her to ask them where her love is. 

Yaz’s alarm wakes her up before George can turn around. It was George. There’s no one else with a haircut like that that she knows. What a strange dream, she thinks to herself. Perhaps it was all that talk with Ryan about dating apps that got something deep down inside her thinking. 

Shutting down her alarm Yaz gets filled with the dire feeling that she’s stuck repeating the same day after day after day. She’ll go to a hotel or another venue that costs thousands to rent out, drop off some items that cost a few hundred quid then head to triple B. Or the other way around, she hasn’t really checked her schedule. Tomorrow she will do the same and then the same after that. Yes they’re all different weddings but when you’ve seen at least a hundred some of these ‘original’ inspirations and ideas they get a bit repetitive. 

“Think of the money Yaz.” She mumbles to herself. At least Amy pays well. 

Yaz drags herself into a more positive mood on the drive to the store unit where her big van waits for her. It’s not actually hers but she likes to think of it as hers since she’s the one that drives it all the time. While she walks around her van checking the tyres and bodywork and whatnot, Yaz notices that there is someone already sitting inside in the passenger seat.

“What are you doing?” Yaz asks, flinging the door open. 

“Coming with you.” Ryan grins. Yaz stares at him confused until she gets an explanation. “I might have made a teensy tiny scheduling mistake and Amy said I have to fix it so…”

Yaz rolls her eyes and jumps into the cab of the van. Ryan doesn’t usually come out since he’s more used to dealing with stuff in the office rather than at the venues but he’s still good. He has a half decent eye for table decor and is always a hit with the bridal party. Plus, unlike Bill, Ryan actually talks to her on the journey there instead of sleep.

“Here we go then.” Ryan puffs out his chest and stretches as Yaz opens up the back of the van. 

“You’ll be alright footing my ladder, yeah?” Yaz asks. 

“Yeah. Just don’t make me go up it.” He chuckles nervously. 

Together they get everything out of the van and into the reception barn in a jiffy. Barely anyone is here yet, just the cleaners, and Yaz can set up her ladder straight away to string fairy lights in a criss cross diagonal configuration. It’s a lot of going up and down and up and down but Yaz won’t force Ryan to take over, not with his dyspraxia and how high the ceiling of this place is. She doesn’t complain, Yaz just cracks on with it going back and forth until it’s done. Just in time as well with the bare tables being set out and chairs needing vertical sashes with a sprig of fake lavender tucked into the elastic band dressed on them. 

“Ryan!” Donna strides over in her pantsuit, holding her clipboard with one hand and outstretching the other for Ryan to stand up and shake. It must be nine o’clock. “I don’t think we’ve ever properly met.”

“Plenty of phone calls though.” Ryan takes her hand. 

Not part of the conversation, Yaz keeps going tying clear elastic bands around fabric and tucking plastic lavender into it for decorations. It’s got a lovely lilac colour theme this wedding and Yaz imagines the groom, groomsmen and bridesmaids in lilac suits and dresses, bringing some true colour and fashion to the event. When the tables are being laid Yaz will place a lilac sequin table runner across them then place a candelabra in the middle with purple candles in them, but for that to happen the caterers need to arrive. Yaz looks up trying to identify where Rose and her team are and the moment she does so Rose appears from the kitchen with tablecloths in hand. Following her is George, but they don’t look like the usual George. 

Blonde hair is hanging down by their shoulders. Eyelashes are a bit darker. If Yaz is truthfully blunt about it their chest isn’t as flat and their crotch isn’t as prominent. She hadn’t considered those features before at all but now she’s noticed it’s evident and she feels bad for looking. 

Yaz puts her head back down to get on with what she’s supposed to be doing. She tries to listen into Donna and Ryan’s conversation but her eyes creep upwards while her hands continue to work and her concentration floats back to George. They just look… different. Yaz would describe it as a good kind of difference but that would imply that how George was before was bad and it’s not bad at all, Yaz still thinks they look good like that too. It’s just a little bit of a shock to the system for Yaz to see George with more feminine features. She moves along onto the next chair and the next and the next all while having to train her eyes not to look up at George whenever they walk past or Yaz feels like it. She gets away with it for about five minutes before George catches her eye. They don’t smile. Instead they come over. 

“Hey.” Yaz greets them like she hasn’t noticed anything different. 

“You’re looking at me funny.” George says quite strongly, getting up in Yaz’s face. 

Yaz frowns at the fairly strong accusation. What happened to soft gentle George? “No I’m not.”

“Yaz I know what it’s like when you’re looking at me normally and it doesn’t feel normal.” George shakes their head.

“You’re just…” Yaz pauses to choose her words carefully, not wanting to agitate George further. “... presenting differently today.” 

“Maybe I am. So what?” 

“I didn’t mean-”

“I like it when people don’t make it evident that yeah- maybe I wanted to present as a bit more feminine today- because it’s my choice, my life and actually the only thing I have control over when everyone’s calling me a waitress and a girl.” George states point blank. They walk off leaving their words hanging in the air in front of Yaz.

“George I didn’t…” Yaz calls after them but it’s obvious George won’t listen and she doesn’t want to raise her voice for everyone to hear. “Shit.” 

The other two caterers don’t notice that anything has happened however Ryan and Donna pause their now very long conversation to look at Yaz expecting an explanation for George’s behaviour. Yaz shrugs, not really understanding herself. But she does understand that whatever she’s done has upset George.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Yaz goes to therapy in this chapter (as she should). Of course, I am not a licensed therapist but I have been to therapy sessions before and all of this is based off of my own experiences. Please do not go away from reading this taking these fictional sessions as fact nor should you try any of the techniques that are mentioned in coming chapters without consulting a professional or someone more knowledgeable of your specific needs first.
> 
> Yaz discusses her anxiety and once again please message me on twitter or tumblr if you want to skip that !! otherwise enjoy : )

Yaz feels like a right tit. A massive stupid dumbass tit. George is frosty with her when she next goes to Blue Box Barn and Yaz reckons she should just give up on being their friend. She sees no way of coming back from this. Give them space and they can decide whether Yaz is worth their time because in the meantime Yaz has a job to do. She is quite literally the only one from For the Girls Who Waited that is coming to triple B every time with an accomplice and it’s making the season drag. It was easier when she was going to new and different places every day but this year it’s like every day is groundhog day. Her only saving graces are the friends she still has that also come here every day.

After a long and tiresome day at triple B Yaz lays on Bill's sofa with her legs resting on Bill’s lap while they watch shitty reality TV imported straight from the US of A. Yaz is pretty sure neither of them have moved for a good hour and a half at least and Yaz is planning to keep it like that for so many more. Her legs ache after today; four hours total driving the van which had to be parked miles away from the actual room the wedding they were decorating was being held in, then the new trainee Yaz was working with announced he was scared of heights so Yaz was left to basically do it all. Her legs ache. Her abs will ache in the morning if she doesn’t have a cold bath. Her arms ache too. What she can do now though is just relax with Bill who knows exactly how she feels. 

“What d’you want to eat?” Bill asks. 

“Dunno.” Yaz shrugs with very little energy. 

Bill leans forward crushing Yaz’s legs between her thighs and her chest to reach for a selection of paper menus laying on her coffee table. 

“Pick a takeout, any takeout.” She leans back, splaying the different coloured bits of paper in a fan formation. 

“Chinese.” Yaz stabs the chosen take out place with her finger. 

“Chinese don't do delivery, you’d have to go pick it up.”

“Indian then.” Yaz changes her mind, not wanting to drive anywhere else today.

“Nice one.” Bill throws the irrelevant ones back onto the table. “Leaflet menu for madame.” 

“Thanking you.” Yaz takes it. “Anything is better than my dad's attempt at cooking.”

“He’s not that bad.” Bill argues. 

“You don’t have to eat it everyday.” 

“Neither would you if you had moved in here. Still could if you wanted. I have a guest room.” Bill offers. 

“What, and listen to you and Heather be grossly in love everyday? No thanks.” 

“You love your family too much to leave, don’t kid yourself.” Bill gently nudges her legs. 

“I know. Doesn’t stop them driving me mad though.” 

Yaz chooses her meal choice and tells Bill who writes it down on a piece of paper alongside her own. Bill orders some for Heather too. She’s doing a night shift waiting tables at a bar in town but Bill orders some for her anyway so she doesn’t feel left out and can eat it tomorrow. Yaz does say that she could just order a fresh one tomorrow but Bill doesn’t listen. 

“Gonna be fourty five minutes to an hour.” Bill says. She doesn’t need to say it because Yaz heard everything through the phone but she says it anyway. 

“That’s fine.”

“Where are you going tomorrow?” Bill asks, settling back down into their shared couch potato state. 

“Triple B.” Yaz sighs. 

“Again?”

“I’m never _not_ there at the moment.” Yaz laughs like she still doesn’t really believe it. 

“At least there’s eye candy.”

“Eye candy that’s pissed off with me.” Yaz mumbles hopelessly.

“Who said I meant George?” Bill catches her out but can’t be smug about it for too long when she finally catches that Yaz has said they’re mad at her. “Wait what?” 

“Long story.” Yaz says not wanting to get into it.

“Okay. Can I talk to you about something then?” Bill asks, her demeanor changing, completely doing a one-eighty.

Yaz sits up, tucking her legs up to her chest ready to listen with intrigue. “Go on.”

“I’m thinking of getting a new job.” Bill announces. “Not as good pay but better hours. If I accept it I start in September.” 

“Shit.” Yaz whistles the words through her teeth. 

“Don’t look too disappointed about me leaving.” Bill nudges her trying to provoke another reaction.

“I want to leave too, I just haven’t found another job yet.” Yaz says.

“Oh Amy’s going to be so mad at us…” Bill whispers with her big brown eyes growing wide.

“You tell her first.” Yaz says.

“What, why me?”

“Because you actually have a job lined up!” 

“I’ll wait until you get a job.” 

“You literally just said it was starting in September.” Yaz playfully kicks Bill’s thigh.

“Get a job before September then.” Bill kicks Yaz back. 

There’s a pause. Briefly. Then their playful kicks turn into a full play fight, both battling to topple the other over on the sofa by pushing, shoving and kicking. Yaz overpowers Bill easily being able to get on top of her in an instant while Bill thrashes out. Yaz grabs her hands and the pair fall silent. 

“Are we about to kiss right now?” Yaz dramatically teases.

Bill fake retches, pushing Yaz away. “Gross!”

“That’s exactly what Ryan said.” Yaz slumps back, lightly laughing. 

“Are you that desperate for a tumble under the sheets you’ve resorted to asking me and Ryan?” Bill asks.

“I’d never give you the pleasure.” 

“Who said you’d be the one doing the giving?” Bill winks. 

“Shut up you bottom.” Yaz gets in one last push before the conversation moves on. 

Yaz keeps the new information under her hat for the time being. Bill does the same, keeping her mouth shut about Yaz’s intention to leave, especially since Yaz hasn’t actually found another job yet. The two of them are good at keeping each other's secrets and that’s all down to years of trust. 

Strangely, Yaz gets sent to triple B by herself. It goes against protocol but apparently the office is so busy with calls and inquiries not even Ryan can come and supplement for the lack of staff today. She has half the mind to text Sonya and ask her if she could really help out but it’s too late. If Yaz doesn’t leave the storage unit now she’ll be working close to the clock and she can’t risk that, not when she’s having to stay through the ceremony to move six foot faux trees afterwards. She doesn’t know _how_ she’s going to carry two fully assembled weighted trees across from the ceremony room to the reception barn by herself with no help but she’ll push through. She’ll rope Donna into the fiasco if she has to.

Yaz arrives ten minutes after the caterers arrive, giving herself time to erect the wisteria trees in the ceremony room while the tables get dressed so by the time she’s done with the trees she can crack on with centerpieces. George is working. Yaz can see them through the glass doors before she even enters the room. She keeps her eyes away to avoid any other conflict and works on the tables furthest away from them. She feels horrible for doing it since it’s very evident that they’re not on good terms, or at least George isn’t with Yaz, and Yaz knows what it feels like to be avoided and it’s never nice. Not even being evidently avoided by someone you hate.

A later start means Yaz doesn’t have to hide in her van for long, only when guests are arriving and gathering on the grass. When she sees the bride and her bridesmaids entering she gets out. She could stay and watch dumb cat videos on her phone but there would be no knowing as to when the ceremony is over and she needs to move these trees as fast as she can. Thankfully there’s a sort of waiting area before the ceremony room starts giving Yaz a hiding spot. She can peek through the arch in the dividing wall if she wants but there’s no needs as it’s easy to hear everything that’s going on- including the door that she just closed behind her opening again. Thinking it’s a guest that’s running late she turns with a smile already on her face only to see George. She doesn’t let her smile fade too much so that her change in expectation isn’t obvious and mean. 

George smiles a small smile and shrugs timidly. 

“I’m sorry. For how I snapped, I was just stressed and I wasn’t-”

“George you don’t have to explain.” Yaz stops them with a relaxed raised hand. She does want to hear what they say, but not now. Not when someone’s walking down the aisle about to get married to the love of their life (in theory).

“I kind of want to though.” George whispers, spinning the silver ring around their thumb. “Can we talk?”

Yaz pokes her head around the corner of the wall to see the bride meeting her husband to be at the front. “In the middle of someone’s wedding?” 

“Is your van empty?” George asks. 

When George suggested it Yaz thought they would awkwardly sit in the front staring out the windscreen so they wouldn’t have to look each other in the eye as they talk. Instead Yaz finds herself climbing into the back of her van and sitting down with her back to the wall with George doing the same opposite her, the two of them illuminated by the sun's rays coming through the open backdoors. George takes a moment to adjust themself as they sit, drawing Yaz’s eyes to their shins and their wrists. 

“What do you want to say George?” Yaz asks. 

“I um… look I want to be your friend and I feel comfortable with you for some reason so…”

“George you don’t have to tell me.” Yaz smiles. It’s hard not to smile when George is around. “I can still be your frie-.”

“I’m not a boy and I’m not a girl. I’m just me but… sometimes I feel a little more confident as a girl- but I'm still not a girl- so I don’t bind or shove anything down my pants. Then sometimes I bind and don’t pack, other times I don’t bind and do pack, then sometimes I do both- but I'm still not a dude- and sometimes I don’t do either, like I said. I just do what makes me feel comfortable and when you were looking at me it made me feel a bit self conscious.”

George’s words settle in the air between them padded by silence. Yaz’s innocent looks made George feel self conscious which makes her feel horrible. She knows what that’s like, to feel like everyone’s staring at pointing. 

“I’m sorry George.” Yaz apologises.

“Not your fault.” George rests their head on the wall of the van with a soft thud, holding their hands between their legs and staring at Yaz with a glint in their eye and a bit of a proud smirk on their face. “I’ve never actually told anyone you know.”

“Really?”

“You’re the first. All my other friends just went with it.” George says, running their hands through the shaven parts of their hair. In most ways this information makes Yaz feel worse.

“I’m sorry you had to explain it to me.” Yaz apologises again. 

“Stop apologising you idiot. It feels good to say it outloud.” George smiles. Yaz can tell it’s a genuine one. 

They sit a bit longer together; George letting Yaz digest the information they’ve given her and Yaz doing just that. Knowing the truth Yaz gives herself permission to properly look George up and down all over. Flat chest, that’s obvious now Yaz has seen that there’s a difference. They have nice hips. Yaz likes their hips. And their face and their hair. Now her eyes move to what’s plainly in front of her, defined by the fabric of their pulled up trousers crimping around it. She doesn’t really get how it works. She knows what it’s like to wear a strap on but she guesses it’s different when it’s… soft, to put it delicately. She’s never had to think about it before. 

“Are you staring at my parts?” George smirks. 

“No! No.” Yaz denies it, but pauses as her eyes stray back down south. “No?” 

“You should see me when I’m hard. It’s much bigger.” George says with an air of nonchalance about them. Yaz’s eyes whip up not knowing whether that’s an invitation or George’s attempt at flirting. “That’s a joke.” George clarifies. 

“Oh. Right.” Yaz feels herself begin to cringe horribly at herself. 

“Don't worry. I know you’re only curious. Most people are when they find out.” George smiles kindly to release Yaz from the grips of feeling like shit. 

“Thanks for sharing with me Georgie.” Yaz uses the nickname to show how relaxed she is now. Back to being proper friends with George. Brilliant.

“S'alright. I wanted to.” George shrugs. A minute or just about passes of the two of them simply staring and smiling gently at each other. “Neither of us want to go back, do we?” George asks. Yaz answers although she knows it’s a rhetorical question.

“Nope.”

“God, I need a day off.” George groans, rubbing their eyes with the balls of their hands.

“Tell me about it.” Yaz agrees with the sentiment. 

George pushes themself up from the floor and brushes down their uniform not wanting any dust or dried dirt tainting their black trousers, then extends their arm to Yaz. Yaz takes their hand happily, helping her get up too.

“Come on. Let's get back before someone thinks we're doing drugs in here or something.” 

“Can you help me move these trees?” Yaz asks. 

“Anything that keeps me from prepping the entrés.” George sighs their agreement.

She and George do their best to dodge the photographers as they scuttle behind the wedding party carrying the heavy trees. Yaz is up front making sure no branches fall off and George is at the back where the majority of the weight is. They place them just inside either side of the entrance and Yaz fixes small parts that fall off just before guests start making their way in. 

“Thanks George.” Yaz says again. 

“See you later yeah? And I really am sorry Yaz I shouldn’t have lashed out the other day.” George taps her elbow sincerely. 

Yaz smiles, not knowing what else to say. “See you later.” 

Later turns out to be the next morning just to take everything back while a rival company sets up for the next wedding. Yaz really wonders how Donna does it, booking this many weddings in a row in the summer plus winter weddings and other events. For the first time, George looks tired. Yaz notices it in their behaviour so much she feels the need to approach them and ask if they’re okay, so she does, abandoning her work to go over to the trestle table covered in belongings waiting to be picked up and packed away in a cupboard by the newlyweds never to be seen again. 

“Hey.” Yaz announces her presence. “You good?”

“Tired.” George says. “Got tonight to go then two days off.” 

“Good. I’m glad.” Yaz is relieved on George’s behalf. 

“Why, are you sick of seeing my face?” George jokes weakly. 

“No, I just think you deserve a break.” Yaz says with honesty. 

“Well until then...” George cracks open a tub full of sweets and takes a handful for themself. 

“Is that allowed?” Yaz asks. 

“Don’t be a narc just take some. They never notice.”

Yaz takes a handful, trusting George that she won’t get into any trouble for sneaking a quick snack. They must have had a sweet stand for kids and other people who don’t like wedding cake but went too mad on how much they bought- literally like kids in a candy shop. Yaz scans the piles of plastic tubs sitting within the other items and flower arrangements and spots some of her favourite one penny sweets she used to get on sweetie day after school at the corner shop on the way home. It’s a pretty impressive spread and she considers swiping an entire box.

“Right you either let me in on the secret sweet shop or you come back and help.” Bill jumps in between George and Yaz’s shoulders.

Yaz holds out her cupped palm and lets Bill take a few sweets from her hand. She doesn’t mind sharing and she took too many for just herself anyway. As Bill tucks in, George silently disappears into the kitchen without so much as a wave but Yaz notices. So does Bill.

“What’s up with them?” Bill asks, ripping off a jelly man's head. 

“Tired I think.” Yaz says, still trying to follow George with her eyes. 

“Me too. Come on, I wanna go home and nap.” 

“You okay Yaz?” Sonya asks out of the blue.

Yaz, who is sitting aimlessly scrolling on her phone at the kitchen table, looks up from her screen for the first time in a while to see her sister looking fairly concerned. 

“I’m fine. Why?” Yaz asks. 

“After that accident at work you’ve been a bit more jumpy. I’m just worried.” Sonya says. 

Yaz hasn’t seen it in herself if she’s honest. She knows that as George was holding her she had a panic attack. She knows that feeling too well to misdiagnose it. And, she supposes she has been feeling a bit more down in the dumps after it; feeling like it’s her fault for upsetting George and she can’t do much right with her life. Unloveable. Dumb. 

“I’m fine, Son.” Yaz says. 

“Get in contact with Doctor Jones?” Sonya asks, sitting down in the chair opposite, suddenly making this conversation between siblings seem like a board meeting.

“No.” Yaz refuses. Seeing Doctor Jones means she’s not better anymore. She’s better now.

“Just one session. Please.” Sonya begs. Big brown eyes pleading with her to take care of herself. “For me?” 

Yaz stares her little sister down with the idea that if she breaks, Yaz will continue to refuse. If Sonya manages to hold Yaz’s gaze and not so much as look down Yaz will agree to go. In the back of her mind she’s aware that it’s a bit of a shitty way of deciding whether to go to therapy or not but she’s so busy at the moment with work and everything that having to go will be an extra responsibility to have to consider. Sonya is just as strong willed as Yaz when it comes to the people she loves, and simply looking at her face, in her eyes, Yaz already knows what she has to do. Unfortunately.

“For you.” Yaz agrees. 

Yaz books in to see her therapist Doctor Martha Jones after her shift on Monday. She sits in the office that’s made up to look like a comforting living room although it really is just an office and she recalls the last time she was here. She was thriving. Doing good. She still is doing good, she thinks. Just needs to talk a few things through. 

“What brings you back Yaz?” Martha asks in that friendly yet concerned voice she always starts off with. 

“There was an accident.” Yaz says. “I almost had a chandelier fall on me at work.” 

“Whoa… that is uuh…” 

“It’s something right?” Yaz smiles at Martha’s speechlessness.

“Yeah.” She laughs nervously. 

Martha proceeds to do that thing Yaz always hated: staying quiet until Yaz elaborates. It’s the one thing, _the one thing_ that gets on her nerves because it forces her to dig deep and come up with a truthful answer to decode and untangle. 

“I got pushed out the way but I had a panic attack and I know I’m like… more conscious of everything now, safety wise. Other thoughts have been coming back too.”

“Of running away again?” Martha asks, plainly having Yaz’s notes from previous sessions in front of her. 

“No, not that I just…”

Yaz should have thought about exactly how she’s feeling before coming here. It would save the silences and the ticking of the clock distracting her from searching inside herself for answers. 

“Take your time.” Martha says. Yaz doesn’t want to so she pushes through her own stubbornness. 

“I just feel like I should have seen it coming. I should have known like George knew.”

“Who’s George?” Martha asks, scribbling down the name. 

“Person who pushed me out the way.” Yaz gives her usual answer.

Martha takes a deep breath. “It seems this is linking back to what we said about you and control.” 

“But we sorted that.”

“You said it yourself Yaz this incident has shaken you up a bit. Something happened that you couldn’t control, couldn’t see coming and that’s triggered something in you.”

“I guess.” Yaz shrugs, letting her head hang a little lower. She feels like she’s failed. 

“Can I tell you something Yaz?”

“That’s what I pay you for.” Yaz punctuates her sentence with a light chuckle to hide the fact she didn’t mean to say it so harshly. She wants it to be known she’s taking this seriously. Plus, she knows this is a vocation rather than a business for Doctor Jones. She could probably save the entirety of humanity on the planet if she had the time and the resources to talk to everyone.

“Coping with mental illness isn’t just a straight line that goes up and up getting better and better. Things like this will happen. I’m proud you came back.” 

“I didn’t want to, it was my sister who said.” Yaz says, not wanting to get all the credit. 

“Well your sister might have just caught you. Saved you from running yourself into the ground- right now Yaz we can deal with it. Yeah?” 

“I’m working lots, I don’t know if I can keep regular appointments.” Yaz says.

“That’s okay. Just a quick text every now and then will be okay but let’s see what’s actually going on first.” Martha smiles. “Run me through exactly what happened.”

“I was just working. Packing stuff away and counting. I knew the wedding party had been a bit rowdy and had smashed some stuff so I was double checking everything was there then George just grabbed me and pushed me out the way. I have a video.” 

“Send it to me after. Keep going, tell me what was going through you.” 

“Like my feelings?” Yaz asks. 

“I don’t want to sound too cliche but yeah, tell me how you felt.” Martha smiles and puts her pen down to encourage her to speak freely.

“Shocked. Like it was a proper heavy thing, it could have killed me which was scary to think about. I didn’t want to let go of George, it got worse when they weren’t with me.” Yaz recalls. 

“How important is George to you now after this?” Martha asks. Yaz can see where this is going. 

“They went from being just an acquaintance to a friend very quickly.”

“Just a friend?”

“Yes, what do you mean by that?” Yaz asks, suddenly not knowing where this is going.

“I’m just making sure you’re not becoming dependent on them to feel safe.”

“I’m not, honestly. They’re just my friend.” Yaz insists. 

“How often do you see them?” Martha asks.

“Almost every day but that’s because I’m going to that venue. They’re a caterer there.”

“And you talk to them every time you go?” Martha persists in her questioning. 

“Most of the time but we haven’t ever talked about what happened. Well we have but not much, just because we were both the ones at risk.”

“Okay. That seems healthy.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t be friends with them?” 

“No! God no, we need all the friends we can get in this world. They sound very kind and supportive.” 

“I like them.” Yaz reiterates. 

“What are the other things you’ve been feeling then, just so I have a note and we can keep an eye on it?”

Yaz tells Martha a brief description of how she’s been feeling, trying to find the right words to describe it all. As every therapist does she makes a note of it to pick up on for next time and Yaz is then set free to go on with her day. There’s something about therapist offices that tires Yaz out on top of having to talk about herself. She drives home at about 30 miles per hour with no music, just sitting in her car and focusing on shifting gear and pressing pedals until she’s home. Yaz didn’t tell her mum where she was. She doesn’t tell her dad either. Sonya asks if she had a good trip out and Yaz nods and smiles to let her know it went well. That seems to satisfy her curiosity. 

Retiring to her room to regain her energy and plan what else she wants to do with her evening, Yaz practises some of the breathing exercises Martha has given her, in the past and present, just to chill herself out. She takes out her phone with the intention of streaming some relaxing music to breathe to but instead spots a text from George. That’s strange. She hasn’t really text George at all before. Yaz opens it, completely forgetting about her breathing exercises. 

_‘Call me’,_ it says. Just those two words. They’re clear enough instructions so Yaz does it without question. It rings and rings and rings until George finally picks up.

 _“Hello?”_ George says. 

“Hey.” 

_“Hey, what’s up?”_

“You tell me, you were the one who text telling me to call.” Yaz smiles. They probably text during her session with Martha and have forgotten all about it. 

_“I text you that?”_ George asks. 

“Yeah.” Yaz’s smile quickly turns into a small frown. “I’ve been busy so it might have been sent a while-” 

_“Ooooooh, no, wait sorry, that was for Oswald. I wanted to see if she could make a souffle for me, just got a real craving. I was wondering why I hadn’t heard from her.”_

“Right.” Yaz says, understanding. “I should let you go and fix that then.” 

_“Wait, Yaz.”_

“Yeah?” 

_“Tomorrow triple B doesn’t have a wedding on nor is there anything on Wednesday and Donna’s organised a staff thing. Just a couple of drinks and Chef’s doing some food. Something for the staff, you know?”_

“What’s that got to do with me?” Yaz asks. 

_“Well we’re all allowed to bring a friend and… I mean since you’re here so often I thought you might like to come? Maybe? You don’t have-”_

“I want to.” 

_“Okay.”_ Yaz can hear George’s smile. _“It starts at half six.”_

“I’ll be there.” 

_“See you tomorrow then.”_

“See you tomorrow.”

Yaz hangs up. She feels brilliant- no, more than brilliant. Amazing. She can’t remember the last time someone invited her out to something that wasn’t Bill or Ryan and the fact that George thought of bringing along her… it’s nice. It feels really nice. Martha’s warning about not getting dependent on George for happiness echoes around her skull momentarily but she can’t get that mixed up with just generally enjoying her time with them. As she said to Doctor Jones, she likes George, and as Doctor Jones said, it’s good to keep them close. 

It just depends how close they’re going to get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly smaller chapter but hopefully just as entertaining! slow and steady boys they'll get together soon (or not lmao this is a slowburn)


End file.
